Parting is such sweet sorrow
by leoniewayisdown
Summary: It is the last year of school for John before he goes off to University, he needs to be studying hard but a certain teacher is driving him to distraction. A buzz filled the air between Mr Holmes and Watson growing unbearable, the last school year is about to draw to a close. The tension is tangible and the exams are looming, will John Watson hold his resolve?
1. Chapter 1

**Parting is such sweet sorrow**

_It is the last year of school for John before he goes off to University, he needs to be studying hard but a certain teacher is driving him to distraction. A buzz filled the air between Mr Holmes and Watson growing unbearable, the last school year is about to draw to a close. The tension is tangible and the exams are looming, will John Watson hold his resolve? _

**_Please do leave reviews, that would be wonderful! I might bring in more characters for example Mycroft because he is fabulous! I am new to this website and am just getting my bearings so sorry for any mistakes... I hope you enjoy! _**

Sherlock was sat at his desk, marking his students work leaving sharp criticisms to soon crush the intelligent student's self-importance. He had just finished his last scathing comment, when the tawny stocky figure of John Watson entered the class room. His walk was awkward yet emanated a sense of self-dignity and Sherlock hated to say it- power. His enigmatic eyes were normally bright when entering Sherlock's class on a Wednesday afternoon but today they were downcast hiding his eyes away from Sherlock's view.

John could feel Mr Holmes' sharp electric blue eyes follow him across the classroom. He couldn't meet his gaze for fear of getting burnt, Holmes had been an object of his burning confusing thoughts for the past couple of weeks. He was surprised Holmes couldn't read this hidden battle all over his face. John was fifteen minutes early and noticed he had interrupted his teachers' marking. He decided to sit quietly down, planning to read and for Holmes to forget his existence as John suspected his teacher easily could. John saw himself as exceedingly boring compared to the fascinating and frustratingly beautiful man who had started plaguing his mind ever since he took over from the equally as delightful Miss Prendergast who many boys in John's class had found extremely interesting.

Sherlock hadn't looked back down to the paperwork he should be filing away, instead was studying the boy sat across the room from him, he cleared his throat and looked away finding something to distract himself with but was more intrigued by John's behavior. He wasn't at all an outspoken student but he still participated in the lessons with an interested smile. His silence and concentration on the book he was reading, led Sherlock like a magnet to walk over and stand by John's desk.

"Hello John" Mr Holmes' baritone voice rumbled by John's desk making him jump. He looked up and couldn't prevent a smile from appearing on his lips at the casual way in which his teacher said his name almost _intimate_, at that thought John felt a slight warmth develop on his cheeks.

"Hello Sir" he replied placing his book down, he reckoned that Holmes had finished his marking and had felt sorry for John's lonely appearance.

"What's that you're reading?" Sherlock asked in a conversational tone dissimilar to the controlled and clipped English teacher voice he uses for the class.

"Romeo and Juliet" John answered, internally kicking himself he looked into those hypnotic eyes. He bit his lip and watched as his teacher's dark eyebrow raise, slight surprise lighting his eyes.

"Are you enjoying it?" this innocent question caused John's pulse to quicken slightly, maybe because of the seductive curve of Sherlock's mouth as he smiled.

"Well my sister is in a school production of it so I thought I'd read it..." John began to explain but Sherlock finished for him.

"In preparation."

John glanced back up and nodded silently followed by a quiet " I suppose" He couldn't look away from the blue eyes thawing from their usually frozen state, John was ensnared he wanted to break the contact to prevent his humiliation but he just couldn't physically look away. The tall dark man released him from his gaze as his eyes moved to the window. This split second moment let John's brain work and he quickly stood up announcing "I'm just going to get a drink before class starts"

Sherlock's head whipped back to John who was standing jangling with some change in his pocket. He watched as John nervously pushed a hand through his blond mousy hair, it looked thick and soft to the touch. He noticed John's hesitance as he moved round his desk, he had to brush past him through the close knit desks. John avoided Sherlock's eyes, the proximity having a bitter taste on his tongue. Before Sherlock realised, his arm acted of it's own accord, reaching out to stop John. John freezes and his eyes turn to him in surprise, Sherlock studied every inch of John's face until he zones onto his mouth taking in every feathered line down his bottom lip. A line of blood was in one of the cracks in his plump lower lip "Your lip is bleeding" Sherlock says absently not recognising his own voice.

John's heart was over-reacting to Holmes' closeness- or maybe it wasn't an over reaction considering the mouth-watering scent engulfing his senses. His pulse spiked when he realised his teachers attention was focused onto his mouth _Oh god this can't be happening. It's in my head, it's in my head!. _Yet his eyes were not miraculously deceiving him as he watched Sherlock's hand move towards his face. His mouth grew slack and he felt his teacher's warm soft pad of his thumb brush his lower lip, pulling it down gut wrenchingly slowly to reveal the damage. His gaze purely medical, whilst John's hormones and blush rages.

Sherlock's reasoning behind his concentration on the small cut was questionable yet he couldn't pull his thumb away. He could feel John's warm breath on the sensitive pad of his thumb a vibration of tingles spreading from the nerves in his thumb throughout his body. For a heart-stopping moment John moved his lips together provoking heat to pool at the base of Sherlock's spine because it appeared as though John had caught his thumb, alive with nerves, in a chaste kiss. When in reality he was just swallowing, however true this may be, he couldn't move his hand away in shock he just stood locked still.

The heady feeling of Sherlock's touch along with the following permanent eye contact was beginning to make John feel dizzy. His mouth was growing increasingly dry, he swallowed and the way his lips moved together to form a kiss onto Mr Holmes' thumb was strangely erotic. _He probably thinks I kissed his thumb on purpose, when all he was doing was checking a cut on my lip. Keep it together John! _His thoughts raged. John thought this torture would go on forever until the sound of the class room door opening caused John's teacher to move his hand away as if he had been shocked.


	2. Chapter 2

**HIYA Please do leave reviews, it will spur me on! My updates will be sporadic but they will happen! :)**

The sound of the door was an unwelcome reminder of reality. Sherlock quickly moved away the cold air in the space between him and his student making him feel strangely hollow. Sherlock shook his head resulting in the tips of the mass of dark curls to swish across his prominent cheekbones. John was looking down his cheeks pink, he watched with illicit fascination as John licked his lip, erasing the blood. This happened in seconds and the student who had just entered was blind to this little moment which Sherlock was determined to call it. He still had to cool down though, before the lesson began and so left a dumb-founded John with the excuse of photo-copying. He had no idea what was happening, all he knew was that his cold resolve was slipping the more he spent time alone with Watson.

John sat down unable to return his classmates cheerful greetings, due to the overpowering feeling of humiliation._He couldn't get away fast enough_. John had a whole hour to look forward to- watching Mr Holmes stalk around the room coaxing ideas out of brilliant minds while John tries his best to disappear. A coil was building in his stomach waiting for Mr Holmes' return. Soon enough Holmes re-enters stripped of his jacket revealing a sinfully well-fitted white shirt, his lithe body accentuated by the tailoring of his trousers and shirt causing unwanted stirrings in John as his teacher moved stealthily across the room.

Sherlock had to steady himself before coming back into class, he vowed to never be in a room alone with John if he could help it. At least with a whole class of students his cold resolve he was famous for wouldn't evaporate due to whatever Watson was doing to him. Sherlock had never been affected in such a way, never had a students name branded into his brain. His hesitant rising hand to give a point, his brilliant continually changing eyes lighting up in response to what _he _Sherlock was saying, instead of the disdain he is usually faced with in the staff room. His slight observations growing more obsessive by each week, Sherlock was thinking of having John switch class but that prospect was even more unbearable.

Sherlock lulled his class with a false sense of security then pounced with an essay on Chaucer. The whole class groaned which only made Sherlock's wicked grin grow wider. Rustling of paper ensued and a hush fell over the class except for the sound of pens scrabbling against paper. Sherlock scanned the class his eyes continually falling onto John, who had rolled up his sleeves as if in readiness for a physical grapple with the essay. The muscles in his arm flexed and moved effortlessly as if to a piece of music. The tanned skin covering the muscle looked soft and smooth, well that's how Sherlock imagined the skin to feel like allover. A jolt of heat made him swiftly look away.

John concentrated on the essay, yet sporadically checked on his teacher's movements. Not once did Sherlock's eyes fall on him and John battled with the immense disappointment brewing inside. It was if the whole exchange hadn't even happened, affirming John's view that it in fact was made more than it really was through the action of his imagination. He focused wholly on the essay putting on a facade that he was not at all affected by his gorgeous teacher who had started invading his dreams. The lesson had finally ended and John packed up his stuff as quickly as possible stuffing his essay along with the others and escaping out the door, not looking back once.

Sherlock found himself watching John's retreating back as he rushed out of the door, the same strange feeling from earlier returning.

Friday morning Sherlock was setting up for his first lesson with his year 13 class. John entered along with a giggling girl whose name Sherlock couldn't quite remember, she was a fairly pretty girl with thick russet hair that fell in loose tendrils. She appeared to be hanging onto John's every word, Sherlock itched to hear the conversation. He noticed the positioning of the girl was decidedly portraying her attraction with a flirtatious manner but John seemed to be blind to this finishing the conversation with a quick smile and moving to his table. He didn't notice the slight slump of disappointment of his associate. John in his quiet non-domineering way was a centre to an orbit, his personality bringing people close to him yet still keeping that distance. John needed that balance that despite his warm friendly appearance he wanted space, to not let people in too deep because of his past. Although Sherlock had to admit to himself that it was not just John's personality that attracted people to him, his smile was warming with a special and unique quality just for you. His wide hazel eyes that also turned to a dark blue colour, they were alert and bright except when Hazel, amber and blue smudged together in his tiredness. Sherlock can normally read people easily, he had read John easily enough but with him there was always more, always a surprise hidden by a deceivingly normal looking boy.

John's eyes roamed around the room until they fell to Mr Holmes. His cheeks reddened automatically as their eyes met, John quickly looked back down to his desk in front of him feigning fascination in the notes scratched onto the surface. John was so preoccupied he hadn't noticed the announcement of marked essays being handed out. He felt Holme's presence in front of his desk dropping the essay down in front of him "Dismal, I'm afraid to say. Bit disappointing, see you after the lesson" his teacher said calmly and concisely yet all John could really focus on was the plump shape of the teachers mouth and the perfectly shaped cupid's bow. This appreciation softened the blow of such a poor report on his essay but didn't completely numb the sting. His teacher's persona completely different from the man who had so gently caressed his mouth and had spoken so softly, it was if it had never happened.

Sherlock's jaw tightened as he witnessed the look of hurt cross over John's features before they returned to a hardened mask. He didn't want to talk so harshly but all of the other students received the same treatment and John's essay was truly boring, there was nothing wrong with the content but the way John writes nearly bores him to death. It was surprising to him that such an interesting boy would write in such a dull way.

John dreaded the end of the lesson, so when his class mates began to file out of the door John felt himself grow tense. He collected is things away and walked over to the desk in which his tall lean teacher was sat behind. "So what's wrong with it then?" John asked abruptly making Sherlock raise an eyebrow.  
>"Well there's nothing <em>dramatically<em> wrong with it but... it really is rather tedious" he states honestly.

"Right okay, I'll bear that in mind" John says curtly about to leave but his teachers irresistible voice beckoned, so he slowly turned back to him.

" John is everything okay?" concern softening his features. John yet again couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the carved marble face of Mr Holmes.

He looked away quietly replying " Everything is fine sir, why shouldn't it be?" he didn't realise how bitter the words sounded until they left his mouth. With a jolt he felt his teachers fingers encircle his wrist.

"Other than my admittedly harsh comments about your essay, is there something else troubling you?" his voice was soft but John had a sinking feeling that Holmes knew exactly what had been troubling him. At first he was silent, glowering at the floor not wanting to give his infuriating teacher the answer he already knew yet the silence dragged forcing John to say_ something_.  
>"Nothing sir" he tried his best to avoid eye contact but the paradoxical heated icy gaze found his. His teacher appeared nonchalant as he tapped the inside of his John's wrist speculatively.<br>"Raised pulse,dilated pupils and almost mirroring body language" his voice conversational but laced with hidden meanings that made John's stomach flip.

"What are you saying" John says pulling his wrist from Sherlock's light grasp. Sherlock's lips twitched upwards.  
>"Just an observation" he says his voice low emanating from his chest, puncturing John's personal space the toes of their shoes almost touching.<p>

_This experience is so invigorating_ Sherlock thought as he came close enough to John that their breaths were almost mingling. The space between them excruciatingly minimal, Sherlock could smell sandal wood and bonfires on John's scent. A feeling prickled up on his neck making the small hairs stand on end, a feeling Sherlock recognised as anticipation. Their faces were growing close until he could feel John's breath ghost against his lips, the spell was broken when John uttered "Sir" reminding him of his position. He promptly stepped away from John reaching past him to pick up his essay from the desk behind him.

"Next lesson, we can discuss good techniques to make an essay on Chaucer a little more... enticing" John not noticing the pinking of Sherlock's cheeks or the crack in his voice, stormed out of the room.

"Enticing" John fumed marching down the hallway, the essay scrunched up in his hand. His cheeks burning. He was sure his teacher was teasing him, realising just how enticing his student found him.

Sherlock took a seat with heavy sigh his mind whirling, John's presence alone was intoxicating preventing him from clear thought. Not even the fact that Sherlock is a teacher to John could stop his mind wandering to what it would feel like to have his lips on his skin, on his mouth to taste it and not feel any guilt. He let out a groan _this can't be happening _his thoughts beseeched.


	3. Chapter 3

In the afternoon light filtering through the large English room windows, Sherlock thought of home in Baker Street his experiment waiting for him in his "messy" kitchen as Ms Hudson liked to call it. She always tidied it up although she will insist she "isn't his house keeper!" Waiting for his bright students to finish their task was becoming very tiresome. He scanned the room to see how everyone was doing and then watched with disbelief as the red-headed girl sat next to his quiet mousy haired student slid her hand up John's leg and gave is a tight squeeze. The pencil he was holding was in mortal peril of being snapped in half as his grip tightened considerably. Heat of indignation spluttered to life within him, his eyes flicked to John to analyse his reaction and found him non-responsive. Sherlock hid a small triumphant smile.

John's muscles tightened at Lucy's unwanted touch. He had no idea what to do or how to react, he was just processing what was happening when he heard his teacher's silken voice call his name "John. What do you think of the rhyme and meter of the first speech?" with that question Lucy's hand withdrew.

Sherlock had never felt this before. Such over powering possessive and protective feelings when someone gave Watson the slightest touch. Sherlock couldn't fight it, he couldn't suppress the jealousy, the _want_ from clouding his cold and calculated mind. In his deep ruminations he hadn't noticed Irene (one of his most intelligent students) try and get his attention. "Sir, I just cant get my tongue around this Shakespeare, could you help me?" she says this with such a seductive sultry purr, the friend next to her blushed. He could feel John's eyes on him and his lips twitched up slightly,

"It's a good thing that we're not in a drama lesson then isn't Irene?" he retorts with a dramatic flourish of his jacket as he turns to the board. "We're going to go through the questions that you _all _should of answered. Irene you can tell me what words you are finding difficult" Sherlock says fixing Irene with a knowing gaze, Irene probably knew every single word. She was intelligent, vivacious and on many occasions tried to get Sherlock involved in her one-sided flirting. John watched this exchange and felt his heart sink. Irene, a beautiful sharp looking girl with a wit and mind to match, obviously would attract more attention than his boring old self. "Sir, I'm sure you can get your mouth around more than Shakespearean verses" with that even John's ear tips turned bright red as he imagined Sherlock's mouth around... Sherlock's razor sharp gaze meets his and John unconsciously licks his lower lip.

"Oh my god. The way he looked at me, if that wasn't eye sex I don't know what is" Irene said to a sheepish looking blonde girl walking along beside her. John picking up Sherlock's name in the conversation pricked up his ears. "It's just sinful, no English teacher should be that attractive. Clever_is _the new sexy."

John couldn't help but inwardly agree at such a remark although he quickly shook it out of his system with a disparaging shake of the head, "Get a grip Watson" he said under his breath. Before the last year of sixth form, he was resolutely straight or so he thought, but the more he delighted in hearing his teacher's witty come-backs and lightening fast analyse of the most obscure literary work, the more he became intrigued by this dramatic and slightly absurd beautiful man. Walking down the corridor filled mostly by year 7's he sighed, hearing his stomach growl. The traffic of students in the corridor was beyond ridiculous. He was about to push through the torrent when he felt someone else give him a light shove "Excuse m-" he starts in an irritated tone when he turns to see Holmes had pushed up against him. Two silvery blue eyes met with his, they had a mischievous glean.

"Sorry Watson, there seems to be a desperation for everyone to get to the canteen" he says his arm still pressed against his. John's brain short-circuited because of the contact and Sherlock was still staring down at him with a roguish grin that really couldn't be legal. For some reason John's brain was able to work momentarily to formulate a reply

"Yeah sure, you just wanted to get the Toffee pudding before it ran out" John said moving back to give space between them but ended up bumping into someone else.

"Oi, watch out will you" a year 10 grunted. John murmured an apology but was bustled by the crowd and dropped his folders on the floor, the paper that had come loose spreading along the floor "For Christ sake" John says under his breath, he bent down to pick up the mess of papers seeing two slender nearly white hands help him with the effort. The papers were safely collected with minimal contact except for the slightest touch that made John's skin prickle. He felt ridiculously flustered and warm in the face as they both stood upright at the same time. Sherlock passed John his other folder and for a long moment they just looked at each other not saying anything, just looking. John didn't know quite what to do, the quiet becoming awkward. Until Sherlock gave a quick grin.

"I'd better get going, I've got an experiment waiting for me at home. Do enjoy the Toffee pudding on my behalf Watson" and with a final wink, he was strutting down the hallway his long trench coat flapping behind him. _How could he be so god damn smooth? _

"Do enjoy the toffee pudding?" Sherlock seethed to himself "What has happened to me? When have I ever said something like that?" Sherlock was just fastening his scarf around his neck when he saw the unmistakable car smoothly turn in through the school gates. Sherlock made a noise of irritation as the passenger door swung wide open. "I'm not in the mood for your little talks Brother" he says coldly but rolls his eyes and gets into the car.

John sat down next to Mike giving him a tight smile, "You're alright John?" John gave a curt nod sick of being asked this question, sick of his stupid limp. "Fine" he says smoothly quickly moving on the conversation. It had nearly been a year since the accident that had resulted in John having a damaged shoulder from a shrapnel embedding itself into him from a gas explosion blast, his family were all safe but not much had been left and they had been struggling with getting by. The limp was a constant reminder of that horrible day where everything changed within his family, his sister for one becoming more and more like a stranger going to party after party and the silence in the house as his parents worked every hour possible to keep them afloat. Sixth form was a haven for John, a place where he felt normal where he didn't feel weak.


End file.
